


You've Always Been Tony

by Sherlock_and_his_hobbit



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/M, M/M, Trans Male Character, Transgender, following canon, trans!Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:06:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock_and_his_hobbit/pseuds/Sherlock_and_his_hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was lonely and miserable and things were just getting worse, her breast were too big, her hips too wide, everything was wrong. Sometimes her brain reminded her that she could change this, but the word transgender terrified her. The media went crazy if she so much as sneezed, her father would kill her, she wasn’t born a boy so why even attempt to be one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth

Howard had scheduled the meeting so he would be able to fly back Tuesday afternoon to see the birth of his first child on the Thursday. Everything timed perfectly to the minute, after all Howard was a busy man and taking the week off to be with his wife and new born meant putting in the effort now. As he walked into the meeting room, a stylized glass table surrounded by sleek leather chairs, he took his phone out of his pocket turning it off, it wouldn’t do for his phone to go off in this meeting, if all went well he’d be adding 1.5% to his income.

The nurse dialled the number that the panting women had given her but to no avail; and that was the way that Howard missed the birth of his first, and only, child. It seemed to set a precedent for the future really, Howard never being there and Antonia always being an untimely inconvenience to her father.


	2. Three

Even from the earliest ages it’s clear that Antonia had gotten the genius gene from her father. She followed Howard around the work shop constantly, begging him to explain what he was doing, always listening with wrapt attention as he explained processes that the average person wouldn’t understand, and in truth four year old Antonia didn’t understand much of what he was saying either, but she loved to listen anyway. She got her own tool box, and much to Maria’s worry spent her time fiddling with various bits and pieces, using tools that could cause serious injury if she wasn’t careful.  
“Are you sure she should have those?” Maria worried, watching as her precious little daughter cut a cord in half to look at the inner working of the wire. “They look so sharp.”  
“That’s because they are.” Howard had laughed, earning a smack on the shoulder from his anxious wife. “She’s fine Maria. She’s smart, she’s not going to cut herself up.”  
“She’s three Howard.”  
“With the intellect of someone much older than herself, the stuff she understands now is stuff that people ten times her age may not be able to fully comprehend.”  
“That doesn’t mean she has any common sense,” Maria fretted.  
Howard heaved a sigh, “You spend plenty of time around her when she’s not working with me; does she do things like other three year olds?”  
“I suppose your right.” Maria resigned, “I just worry.”  
“And that’s why you’re such a wonderful mother.” Howard leaned in to press a kiss on her lips.  
“I worry about the media too.”  
“I know,” Howard said quietly, he hadn’t had the media follow him around his whole life, he had grown up relatively wealthy but not at all famous; it hadn’t been until his twenties that he began to be noticed for his genius. The media was always brutal, and with technology these days it was even more so. Howard knew it wasn’t the greatest atmosphere to raise a kid in.  
“She’s already in a bunch of newspapers for taking after you.”  
“They’re just talking about how smart she is, it’s good for her.” Howard tried to convince Maria as much as he tried to convince himself.  
“She won’t always be the perfect little genius.” Maria warned though it was hard to believe now as they watched little Antonia fiddle with wires, oblivious to the conversation about her, but she still had her teenage years to come and then many years after that.  
“There’s really nothing we can do about it.”  
“We’ll love her so much it won’t matter what they say.” Maria said fiercely, no matter what she was going to protect Antonia from the cruelties of the world; after all Maria was her mother and that was her job.


	3. Four

Antonia is four when she does her first thing of note, other than being born to that of someone famous. She builds her first circuit board when she is four years, two months and eight days. The papers go crazy. There are photos taken of her, her father and the circuit board, the newspapers love the idea of Tony being a smaller version of Howard, the next genius. Howard is asked question after question about how he feels about her following in his footsteps, or if he is pleased that she takes after him. The questions don’t go to Antonia; she’s not asked how she built the board because nobody cares about that. It’s similar to how the rest of her life would go, every achievement she makes, every great thing she does will always be more about her father than her. After all Howard was where it all started, Howard is the true genius; Antonia is just the kid who managed to get the right genes; but at four years old Antonia is perfectly content with this, she doesn’t particularly like talking to the media anyway.


	4. Five

Antonia had spent the majority of her short life tinkering with machinery, Howard indulged her, showing her how to build simple things, not that she really needed help with that any more. A poster hanging from a telegraph pole offered her the chance to win a hundred dollars, pocket money to Antonia even at five, if she built the best robot, the only requirements of the robot being that a person under the age of fifteen built it.

Tonia spent the next few weeks perfecting her robot, it was trivial really, just a robot that could pick up a pen and write, ‘Hi, I am Jeffery,’ but as Howard built his weaponry he always made sure to toss encouraging words at Tonia who worked busily away at her own creation.

Antonia looked so small on the stage, her robot sitting on a desk she could barely look over, the other competitors, no one under twelve by the look of it, towered over her. Still it wasn’t like Tonia was nervous, why should she be? She had spent her life surrounded by the paparazzi and well, being hailed as a child prodigy does leave you with the impression that you are, in fact, better than everyone else.  
The robots were all very amateur, one of them uttered a few sad beeps before, much to it’s creators, dismay, collapsing onto the table, another waved at the audience and one rolled back and forwards. Antonia’s robot was the last to be assessed; Stark was quite far down the alphabetical line up.  
The judge, an elderly man with spectacle and the starting of a ghost white beard peered down at the small child. “Would you like to show me what you machine does?”  
Antonia pressed the start button and the creature picked up the pencil that had been positioned exactly ten centimetres away and then wrote on the exactly six centimetres away paper, ‘Hi, I am Jeffery.’

Maria picked up her little girl a twirled her around, “You’re a genius!” She declared, “Just like your father.”  
Howard snorted at the last comment, “You know how else you take after me?” He asked his grinning daughter.  
“What?”  
“Well… The fact that you would love to get some ice-cream.”

“Who’s that?” Antonia asked pointing at a dust framed photo on the shelf, in childlike wonder.  
Howard who had been scribbling away at a piece of paper, writing up his designs for something or another hadn’t noticed that his child was in the same room.  
“Huh?” He asked, spinning around on his chair to see what had drawn the focus of Antonia. When he saw her pointing towards the black and white photo of Steve Rogers and smile spread across his face, “That is the greatest man I have ever known.”  
Antonia cocked her head to the side looking at Howard with confused interest, “What did he do?”  
Howard continued to smile at her, “Many things.”  
“Tell me!” The little girl demanded.  
Howard patted his lap, inviting her to sit on it, she ran towards him scrambling up onto his lap. “Alright then,” He began.


	5. Six

Six is a difficult age. The teachers are struggling to keep up with Tonia, they don’t want to put her too far ahead, afraid that she won’t be able to make connections with kids her own age, but she is easily bored and Antonia isn’t fun to be around when she’s bored. She’s rude, to the teachers to the other kids, she’s smarter than them and she knows it. Maria and Howard discuss the idea of a boarding school, somewhere that can meet her needs, but the thought of sending their only child away at such a young age is not one they wish to humour.  
But it’s not only her rudeness to her peers, Antonia flat out refuses to wear dresses or other things she deems to be too girly.   
“This is nice.” Maria holds up a white shirt decorated by blue flowers hopefully.  
“I don’t like it.” It’s the same response that Maria has been getting for over an hour and as much as she loves her daughter she is sick of it.  
“Why not?” Maria asks in a careful tone, she’s frustrated but she will not take it out on Antonia: it’s already hard enough to get her to comer shopping.  
“It’s too girly.”  
“Tonia. You are a girl.”  
“I don’t like it.” Tonia repeated more forcefully.  
“Okay…” Maria put the shirt back on the rack, taking a deep breath. “Alright then, I think you have enough clothes for casual wear anyway. How about we go find you a nice dress to wear to Aunty Cathy’s wedding?”  
“I don’t want to go.” Antonia whined as he mother took her hand leading her towards the dress section of the over priced store.  
“Why not? Aunty Cathy will be so glad to see you.”  
Antonia knew this was a lie, most of the things adults told her were lies, “I don’t even remember her.”  
“All the more reason to see her. Now, do you see any you like?” There were rows and rows of dresses, none of them under a few hundred, all of them beautiful.  
“I hate them all.” Tonia declared.  
“Well you’re going to have to choose one.”  
“Why?”  
Maria gritted her teeth, she was so close to snapping, “Because you need something to wear to the wedding.”  
“Why a dress?”  
“Because that’s what people wear to weddings, I’m going to be wearing a dress.”  
“Dad’s not.” Tonia pouted, she didn’t see the logic in having to wear something so uncomfortable, it was just dumb.  
“Listen Antonia.” Maria snapped, “You are a girl and you are going to be wearing a dress to that wedding whether you like it or not; so you can pick one or I can pick one for you.”  
“It’s not fair!”  
All Maria’s effort to not cause a scene were lost as Tonia’s wailing voice flooded through the shop. Maria grabbed the closet dress in Tonia’s size, a light blue with dark purple flowers at the bottom, took her daughters hand and marched up to the counter.

“I’m not wearing it!” Tonia yelled.  
“We have to leave in five minutes.” Howard muttered to Maria who was desperately trying to get her daughter to just put on the dress.  
“Tonia please.” Maria begged.  
“Antonia Carol Stark! Put that dress on or god help me you are banned from the workshop for a month.” Howard shouted.  
Antonia began to sob, like most six year olds crying seemed to be the default as soon as things weren’t going her way. “I don’t want to wear it.”  
“You have ten seconds to decide whether your going to wear that dress or not.”  
“Okay,” Antonia hiccupped.

“I’m worried about her,” Howard said as he unbuttoned his shirt. The three had returned from the wedding late, Howard had carried his sleeping daughter to bed and now Maria and Howard prepared for bed themselves.  
“It’s probably just a phase, you know she’s having a hard time at school.” Maria collapsed into bed, pulling the duvet over her.  
“I haven’t seen her in anything that’s really appropriate for a little girl in months, Maria.”  
“Do you know how hard shopping with her is? She won’t wear this, she won’t wear that. You can try and get her to wear something more feminine.”  
Howard sighed, “I wasn’t blaming you, I was just saying all the other girls are going through their pink, and unicorns and princesses phase right now.”  
“Well our little girl is special, she’s ahead of them, already up to the tomboy phase, just leave her be for a bit and she’ll get over it.”  
Howard smiled, stepping into bed with his wife, “You’re probably right, she is our special girl.”

Tonia had roused when her father had placed her in her bed, she rubbed at her eyes trying to wake herself up, she was still wearing that god-awful dress. She yanked it off, pulling on a pair of old shirts and an oversized t-shirt she usually wore to bed. She was sick of being forced to wear stupid girls clothing, she detested it, it was annoying and frilly and how were you ever meant to do anything in a dress? Maybe if she looked more like a boy everyone would leave her alone. Antonia snuck down stairs and into the workshop, she knew all the codes, she found a pair of scissors with ease and began to hack away and at her hair.

“Antonia!” Maria called as she opened her daughter’s bedroom; her little girl was still fast asleep. It only took a few seconds for Maria to notice, the long hair was gone and replaced by short uneven clumps. “What have you done?” Maria yelled.  
This woke Tonia up, “Mum.” She muttered sleepily.  
Before Antonia really had time to recognise what was going on Maria had dragged her daughter out of bed, “What did you do to your hair?”  
“Mum-“  
“What happened?” Howard asked as he entered the room, looking around for a sign of danger, “Jeez Tonia,” he said as his eyes fell on his daughter hair. “You could of just asked to go to a hair dresser.”  
“You wouldn’t let me cut it short.” Antonia lifted her head in defiance.  
“There is a reason for that!” Maria shouted, still holding onto Antonia’s hand much to tightly.  
“Maria, it’s fine, I’ll call a hair dresser to come and even it all out. Antonia why don’t you go and play downstairs.” Howard tried to calm down the room.  
Antonia knew better than to argue, so she left, she didn’t see why it was such a big deal, it was her hair after all.  
“Howard,” Maria started as soon as her daughter’s footsteps could no longer be heard.  
“I know.”  
“What are we going to do?”  
Howard sighed, trying to think of what he could do. “I’ll go through her closet, throw out all the boyish stuff, you can go and buy her some new clothes-“  
“She won’t let me buy anything feminine.” Maria interrupted.  
“Don’t take her with you, she wont have much choice if we throw out everything else.

Antonia loved her new haircut, the hairdresser had tut tutted at her for cutting her hair but she did manage to smooth out all the edges until Antonia had short and even hair. Despite her parent’s reactions it seemed to be fine, she wanted to keep her hair like it was. She ran up to her room to show Howard, who had just given the hairdresser a handful money and told her to “Fix it,” before going back upstairs.   
“Dad look at-“ Antonia froze, several large garbage bags sat on the floor of her room, one of them was currently being stuffed with clothes. “What’s happening?” She asked in a much quieter voice.  
“Your mother and I have decided that you are going to have a new wardrobe, she is buying clothes as we speak.”  
“But Dad, I like those clothes!”  
“Listen to me Antonia!” Howard yelled, the small girl flinched backwards, she wasn’t used to her parents yelling at her. “You are going to wear the clothes your mother bought you, you are going to let your hair grow out and not cut it again and stop with this foolishness. As well, due to what you did you are not allowed in the work shop for the week, I’ve changed the codes so don’t even think about it.”  
Antonia began to cry, before she ran out of her room, straight to the workshop, but the codes didn’t work and this was stupid. Why did they have to make such a big deal out of this?

Antonia hated her father and she hated he mother, okay maybe not really but is sure felt like she did at the moment, she’d secluded herself to her bedroom, there was no way she was even going to grace her parents with her presence, they didn’t deserve that.  
Still being locked in one’s room could be rather boring, she felt like she was going mad. In fairness she had been in the workshop just yesterday but knowing that she wasn’t going to be allowed in there for an entire week made it feel like so much longer.  
There was a knock on her door, she was so bored that she almost felt like letting the person in, but it wasn’t hard to remember what they’d done because she was currently sitting in a skirt and a top covered with bright pink flowers.  
“Go away!” She yelled.  
Unfortunately, six year olds, regardless of their intelligence weren’t the most respected or listened to demographic in the world so the door opened anyway.  
Howard was holding a box, a box full of Barbie dolls, it was another one of both Maria’s and Howard’s attempts to make their little girl more of a, well a little girl. It was also, in a way a peace offering, they were going to stand firm on what they’d said but they still loved Antonia, and what six year old was going to refuse toys.  
Antonia’s interest perked at the toys but she tried her best to pretend it didn’t focusing her attention back to her book.  
“I brought you something.” Howard tempted her.  
“I don’t want it.” She replied, still not giving in.  
“Really?” He waved a blonde haired Barbie at her.  
“She’s stupid.” Antonia retorted.  
“Now, now, Tonia, stupid’s not a nice word.” Howard worried about how she was going to interact with other kids considering all of them were going to seem, ‘stupid,’ in comparison to Antonia.  
“Well she is!”  
Howard dug through the box, all of the toys were Barbies or other various dolls, but there was one that wasn’t so much marketed towards girls, which was much more a peace offering that it was something designed to make Antonia more feminine. “Do you think Captain America’s stupid?”  
For a brief moment Antonia kept herself from looking up, holding on to her own self will but in the end she gave in, looking up to see her father holding a Captain America action figure.  
She held out her hands for the toy and Howard smiled, “Want me to tell you about him?”  
Antonia nodded furiously, clutching onto the doll.


	6. Eight

Antonia had recently started middle school, she was in a class with people three years older than her, but most of the time she still managed to be smarter than them. Going to a new school meant Maria no longer picked her up and she was stuck with the chauffeur, either that or catch the bus. When Antonia walked inside there was no one in the house but Maria, the cook only came during meal times and Howard and Maria hadn’t wanted another Nanny despite being easily able to afford one.  
“Mum! I’m home!” Antonia called, dumping her bag at the door, she walked straight towards the kitchen, Jenny, the cook, always made sure their was an afternoon snack there.  
Antonia bit down on a gooey chocolate and caramel cookie, savouring the taste, she was half way through her second cookie when she realised she still hadn’t gotten a reply from her mother. “Mum?” She called again. Once more there was no reply, Antonia shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth and went searching for her missing mother. After checking her bedroom and the lounge room she made her way to the library. An ornate room, where the rest of the house was three stories, this particular part was only one, allowing for the high ceilings, the shelves were lined with books and ladders that would slide across the shelves. In the centre were a few leather couches and that’s where Antonia saw her mother. Relief flooded her, she hadn’t realised how worried she was.  
“Mum, I was looking everywhere for you.” Maria didn’t turn though, didn’t acknowledge her daughter’s words.  
“Mum?” Antonia repeated this time louder, picking up her pace to meet her mother. Sitting in the leather couch was Maria Stark, a book fallen in her lap. “Mum!” Antonia yelled, Maria was a sound sleeper but not this sound, when there was no response realisation and panic simultaneously hit Antonia. She rushed forward shaking her mother, tears forming as her mothers cold body was limp in her hands. Antonia bolted downstairs picking up the phone and dialling 911. Her hands were shaking as she held the phone to her ear; she barely managed to mutter out her address.  
Everything was a blur, people came rushing in and they took Maria out on a stretcher, Howard was there too, holding his wife’s hand and crying. Antonia knew, knew that she was dead, the paramedics didn’t rush they let Howard cry, Antonia stood to the side, crying so much she couldn’t see properly. Her mother was taken away and Howard left, Antonia could hear screaming and things being broken and smashed, she wasn’t sure then, isn’t sure now, whether the noises were caused by her or her father.  
Antonia doesn’t complain about wearing a dress to the funeral. It’s an awful event, she doesn’t cry, she thinks maybe she’s used up all her tears already, people offer their condolences to her father. They use smaller words with her, “Sorry about your Mummy,” and she wants to scream at them, don’t patronise me, I’m smarter than all of you. There are speeches and flowers placed on the casket that is lowered into the ground.  
Howard doesn’t hug Antonia, doesn’t tell her that it will be okay. They don’t even leave the funeral together; Howard gets in one of his cars and speeds away leaving Antonia alone and terrified. A man in about his mid thirties, dressed in a nice suit and already beginning to bald walks up to him, “Hi Tonia.”  
Tony isn’t sure what to say, the funeral had so many people; this could be anyone, from someone who bought her father’s stock to a close friend of Howard’s.  
“I’m a Obadiah, a friend of your father’s,” Obadiah smiles down at Antonia who doesn’t say anything in response. “I want you too know you can come to me if you ever need anything, but for now I’m going to leave you with Matilda, she’ll look after you.”  
A plump, elderly woman, her greying hair pulled into a messy bun, smiled at Antonia, “Your father has employed me as your nanny, shall we go home now?”  
Tony merely nodded, and walked towards a car she recognised to be owned by her father.

It’s been six days since her mother died, and four since she last saw her father. Matilda, treats her like, well like most people would treat, an eight year old, but Antonia isn’t used to that, she’s smarter, better than other eight year olds.  
“Antonia, honey.” Matilda smiled at the girl, “Your father called.”  
“What did he say?” She demanded, hoping that he had informed the nanny that he was soon to be travelling back.  
“He’s decided that you’re going to boarding school.”  
Antonia froze, “Oh, okay.”  
“You leave in two days.” The nanny reached out to put a hand on the small genius’ shoulder, trying to comfort her.  
Tonia just shrugged it off and nodded, “Alright.” She replied in a monotone.

Antonia is close to frantic as she steps into the sleek black car, her bags being loaded by the chauffeur, but she keeps her face completely calm; the only sign of panic are her trembling hands. She doesn’t know what school she’s going to, she had less than forty-eight hours to pack, her mother is dead and she doesn’t know where her father is. “Thank you,” She smiles politely as her chauffeur opens the car door, gives a wave to the paparazzi, she hates them, and they love pain and fear, she wasn’t going to give them anything, she wasn’t going to give anyone anything from now on.


	7. Nine

Antonia hates the boarding school; she is surrounded by snot nosed girls who think they’re superior to her, twenty-four hours, every single day. They prance around in their pressed shirts and pleated skirts, okay, Antonia had to wear them as well, but that was different, because she hated it. She wanted to rip them to shreds and light them on fire, but the housemaids didn't humour her like her father used to, and it was pressed shirts and pleated skirts for everyone, regardless of her pleas.  
Being at the school also meant she was separated from her father, and he wouldn’t even answer the phone when Antonia called him. She called a lot in that first week but now she doesn’t, he never answers anyway, so what’s the point? It just makes her feel pathetic.  
Antonia goes home ever weekend, but home isn’t really much better than the boarding school. The house is so empty now, even though there are more people then ever. Maria and Howard may be gone but the new staff more then compensated, if only in number. Maria used to have an aversion to excess staff, ‘We’re a family and we’re not paying someone else to do what we, as a family, should be doing!’  
At the time Antonia didn’t really understand, nor did she really care, the house was clean, there was food and her parents loved her; whether or not there was staff running around didn’t bother her. But now it makes all the difference, cooks, cleaners butlers and maids are always in the house, and it just make sit seem even more empty; there may be more people than ever in the over sized house but none of those people mattered.

Things were different one Friday, Antonia returned home as usual and the door was held open for her as usual. The man greeted her with his usual, “Good afternoon, Ms. Stark.” The difference was he followed that with, “Your father has returned, he came back just after an hour ago.”  
Antonia nodded curtly trying to keep her excitement to herself, she hadn’t heard from her father in over four months, she had no idea what he was doing, only that he was doing it quietly enough that the media hadn’t published anything, that or they were trying to be respectful after Maria’s death but knowing the media that was doubtful.  
She ran to the basement door, taking the stairs two at a time, she knew this was where he would be, in his workshop, and he’d be working on some new project and he’d explain it to her and then she could help him build it and it would all be okay again.   
Howard was in the workshop, but he didn’t turn to smile at her or invite her over to help. Antonia slowed her stride, he must have heard her, it wasn’t like she was being particularly quiet.  
“Daddy?” Howard had just been ‘Dad’ for quite a while but Antonia felt like she was five all over again, stupidly excited at her father’s simple existence.  
Howard did turn to face her then, but not with his familiar grin and beckoning hand to show her what he was creating. The man that had scooped her up unto his knee as he told her what this new weapon was going to do wasn’t there; instead stood a man with a ghostly pale complexion starkly contrasting with the dark bags under his eyes, he reeked as though he had just taken a bath in the amber liquor that sat beside him.  
“Ge’ out!” Howard slurred. “I don’ need some brat messin’ with my work.”  
Antonia took a solitary step backwards, unsure of how to proceed, her brain trying desperately to place the image of her loving father with this new awful one. She saved having to make a decision on whether to stay or leave when Howard picked up an empty bottle, of what once contained scotch, and hurled it towards his daughter; thankfully the alcohol had ruined his aim and the bottle shattered on the wall behind Antonia. The bottle didn’t harm her but it sure as hell frightened her, she took off like a bat out of hell, racing back up the stairs.

Antonia grew used to her new situation; on the rare occasion that Howard was home she learnt to stay the hell away from him. When he wasn’t at home he was still his charming self, press conferences, and new weapons led to the public falling further and further in love with the poor widowed Howard Stark; they practically had heart eyes when it came to the famed inventor.


	8. Ten

Howard was a good man, he protected America, everyone knew that, but add too much alcohol and he wasn’t such a good man. He was an angry drunk, but also a miserable one. When Antonia found her father in his study, a sobbing mess, she paused, she’d never seen him cry before.  
‘Dad..?’ She questioned.  
“It was your fault.” The words were quiet, Howard didn’t even look up, Antonia wasn’t sure what she meant or whom the words were directed at, she only saw the shaking of her father’s shoulders.  
“Sorry..?”  
He raised his head, turning to face Antonia, his hair clung to his face with sweat, his eyes were blood shot and his whole face red, streaked with snot and tears. “It’s your fault she’s dead, you brat!” Howard yelled. 

So now as she opened the door and the doorman smiled at her, “Good afternoon Ms. Stark.” And left it at that she breathed a sigh of relief; her father was off smiling and flirting with the public, his accusations far away from her.


	9. Eleven

Antonia had a friend now, well, a sort of friend. Lucy. She was smart, and the teachers liked her, meaning that she had been given a key to the labs, something that would never have been given to the rude, and disobedient Antonia.  
The lab had instantly become Antonia’s favourite place to spend her time. It was well equipped, considering the inordinate amount of school fees it should be. It was like being in the workshop at home again, building what she wanted, without a teachers disapproving glare constantly following her.

Lucy wasn’t quite sure what to make of Antonia, she was six years younger than her, smart enough to keep up though, well do more than keep up; but despite her staggering academic ability she still had the social skills of a ten year old, a ten year old who was an only child and believed she was god’s gift to mankind. Lucy wasn’t sure if she considered the Stark girl to be a friend, of if Antonia considered Lucy to be a friend. Their relationship would be described better as companions, they liked to talk about science and engineering, but that was about it. Sometimes Lucy wanted to ask Antonia about other things, it wasn’t like the girl had anyone else she could talk to. Lucy knew that Antonia had lost her mother, Lucy had lost her father, but she never told Antonia that, so she didn't know. Lucy was a Moore, not a Stark and her affairs were not splashed across the front pages.

It was Lucy who first called Antonia, ‘Tony’. The blonde haired girl had tried out a wide array of other names first. On introduction she had told Antonia that her full name was far to long and asked whether she had a preferred nickname.   
Antonia had stared at her awkwardly for a few moments, unsure what to make of this girl, before muttering a confused, “No.”  
“The media calls you Tonia.” Lucy smiled brightly. Antonia narrowed her eyes, someone who tried this hard to keep up a friendly conversation was after something, money? Trade secrets? A scandalous interview?

‘Tonia’ only lasted a few weeks. The pair had formed a bond over their mutual love of science. They had been working side by side in the lab, when Lucy announced. “I’m not a fan of the nickname ‘Tonia,’ I mean it’s three syllables long, that’s longer than my entire name.”  
“And yet you still feel the need to shorten that.” Antonia had remarked, referring to Lucy’s habit of going by ‘Luce.’  
“Exactly, I’m a girl of simple tastes,” Lucy had then hesitated for a second, her brain trying to think of a new nickname, “Stark. That’s one syllable.”  
Antonia had rolled her eyes and returned to her work, she was trying to make an improved version of Jeffery that would write whatever she said out loud, it would help her with all those pesky tasks that her teachers demanded to be handwritten despite the readily available computers, like jeez, this wasn’t the dark ages.

The year tens yearly exams were the worst. Antonia couldn’t care less, unfortunately Lucy could, which meant she spent all her time studying, which meant Tony wasn’t able to access the labs. Lucy flat out refused to lend her the key, ‘If they know I’m lending it out to people I won’t have it for much longer, and then what are we going to do?’ It was a logical statement, but that didn't make Antonia’s ban from the labs any better  
Once the final exams had ceased the pair were back in the labs, celebrating the fact that there was only a mere four more weeks until term was over. Antonia was practically salivating at the thought of being able to work in her lab whenever she wanted. As long as Howard wasn’t home she would have free range to all the technology she could possibly want.  
“Stark’s too formal.” Lucy interrupted Antonia’s thoughts.  
Antonia looked up, Jeffery Version Number Two began to write, ‘Stark’s too formal,’ half way through her English essay, she would need to change the system so that he only responded to her voice. Tony wrinkled her nose; she was quite enjoying being called ‘Stark.’ It was simple, with an air of ambiguity; it was a powerful name too; a name that people obeyed.  
“What about Tony?” Lucy suggested brightly, whatever she had been mixing in a beaker over the bunsen burner made a starling popping noise, what appeared to be green gunk began to bubble upwards. “Interesting.” Lucy remarked as she scribbled down the results. Antonia eyed the gunk and carefully moved Jeffery a few more feet away from whatever experiment her lab buddy was working on.  
“So? Tony okay?” Lucy asked turning back to Antonia who was still eyeing the gunk that was starting to go black and threatening to boil over the edge of the beaker.  
“Tony.” Antonia repeated. She like the name, liked it a lot, it was different, let her be different. Antonia sounded so weak in comparison, it was the name of the girl who had cried over her mother, who believed her father still loved her and would make everything better once more. Tony was new. “I like it.” She smiled.  
Lucy nearly knocked over the beaker, a smile? From Antonia Stark? Impossible! Lucy studied Tony, her hair was cut close to her head, and Lucy couldn’t count how many times Antonia had been sent to uniform detention due to her refusal to wear skirts, and then there was Tony’s approval of her new name. Lucy had a cousin called Emily, once Kenneth, she had been a lot like Tony growing up. It was easy to forget how young Tony was, considering how obnoxiously smart she was. High school was the time you were meant to spend discovering yourself, but Tony was young and while perfectly capable of high school work was yet to reach the ‘fucking massive identity crisis,’ stage. “You know I can get everyone else to call you Tony as well, if you’d like.” Lucy suggested gently. 

Tony wasn’t sure how to respond to that, she wasn’t sure why she liked the name so much, it was just a name after all, “Actually, yeah, that would be great.”  
“You know,” Lucy hesitated; she wasn’t sure how far it was appropriate to take this conversation, on one hand her and Tony weren’t exactly close; on the other she was the closest thing Tony had to a friend. “You can tell me anything you want to, and I won’t judge.”  
Tony looked up from her work, Jeffery was rather unhelpfully documenting the entire process, voice coding him was defiantly something that needed to happen. “Thanks.” She muttered, not liking where this conversation was going, she wasn’t a big fan of feelings.  
“Fine, fine,” Lucy rolled her eyes, she had expected that sort of reaction after all, “Get back to your robot.”  
“Get back to your… gunk.” Tony mumbled under her breath, Jeffery wrote down, ‘Yet yack to your junk,’ obviously speaking clearing was necessary.

Lucy sticks to her word, when the teachers call out, ‘Antonia!’ Lucy would always call, ‘She goes by Tony now!’ Right back at them.  
Tony doesn’t logically know why the nickname makes her so happy but it does. It’s something she can change, something she can make better, and if she can change her name, the foundation of her being, something that has been with her since she was a child, then maybe she can change other things. Maybe she can change the way that she still cries when she thinks about her mother too much, maybe she can stop missing her father so much.  
If she can change her name maybe she can change the quell of fear that runs through her when the doorman tells her, “Good afternoon Ms. Stark. Your father is home.” It wasn’t like Tony could have expected her father to not be home for the entire summer break but she had hoped.  
Tony nodded her thanks at the doorman before continuing on, straight to the kitchen. “Tonia! Dear, have some cookies.” The rotund chef, who had been baking here since before Maria had died, called out.  
“Hey Jenny. Thanks! They look great. Macadamia and white chocolate? Also it’s Tony now. Apparently Dad’s home, is he in the workshop?” Tony rambled, hoping desperately that her father was not in the workshop, she was itching to work on getting Jeffery to only respond to her voice, but she also wasn’t keen of risking a visit with Howard.  
Jenny laughed at the flurry of words that had escaped from Tony’s mouth, “Of course,” She abandoned her mixing bowl and turned to face Tony, “Tony, hey? When did that happen?”  
“A while ago.” Tony mumbled, her words muffled as she tried to speak around the cookies.  
“Swallow and then speak! Why did that happen?”  
“A friend said that I didn’t have any suitable nicknames and I like Tony.” Tony muttered, she didn’t really feel like getting into this, she just wanted to disappear into the workshop, “So where’s Dad?”  
“I’m pretty sure your father is in the study.” Jenny’s face then softened, “You may want to stay away from him for a little while… Tony,” Jenny hesitated before saying her new name, “He’s been drinking.”  
“Yeah, okay,” Tony wasn’t an idiot, she knew that it was best to avoid her father, “I’m going down to the workshop then.”

The summer break is surprisingly… nice. Tony manages to avoid Howard for the first three days and then he leaves, off to some conference. The conference only lasts for a few days but he spends the rest of his time somewhere in the Artic, desperately searching for Captain America. He used to take these trips when Tony was young too, but not with the same frenzy. He no longer trusted a hired crew to search; now he insisted on accompanying them on their trips.  
It didn’t bother Tony; it meant she didn’t have to deal with her father being around. At least that’s what she told herself, but it did bother her, why did her father care more about a dead man than he did about his own child?  
Tony is left to spend her time in the workshop, alone. Sometimes she missed Lucy, being able to bounce ideas off her, having her general company. But it is nice to be able to use StarkTech, of course school’s not at all shabby, but Antonia was used to the best.

Tony calls up a newspaper, just a small one that will jump at the chance to interview a Stark, even an eleven year old one. She gives them some crap about Howard and the company, all ambiguous, all stuff that has been said before and then she tells them to use ‘Tony’ instead of ‘Tonia,’ she doesn’t bother trying to change her full name, knows that will cause with questions, basically anything you do when your famous will cause questions, but hopefully just the request to try a nickname won’t.  
The other newspapers catch on pretty quick and whenever the daughter of Howard Stark is mentioned it’s either Antonia or Tony.  
Tony also manages to perfect Jeffery, overall it’s a productive holidays.


	10. Twelve

Tony stood next to Lucy, watching as the Year Sevens spilled in through the gates. Lucy had offered to be a tour guide, always looking for extra curricular activities that would make colleges love her. Tony had been dragged into it as well.  
“Look, people your age at school!” Lucy elbowed her in the side.  
Tony just scowled watching the bumbling children with their oversized bags and too-big uniforms.  
“Oh come on, Tone, it’s not that bad.” Lucy grinned at him, as though she could force some of her over abundant happiness on Tony.  
“I’d rather be working on Jeffery 12.2.” Tony griped.  
“Maybe it’s time to move on from ‘Jeffery.’”  
“What else would I call them.”  
“You could name them after me!” Lucy turned towards the Year Sevens, “Everyone with a last name starting with J to M! You're with us!”  
“What, Dummy?” Tony retorted.  
“Dummy? You sure you shouldn’t be with the rest of them?” Lucy gestured towards the Year Sevens.


	11. Thirteen

Tony wrapped her arms around herself as the close-to-boiling water poured over her. Tony had learnt at a young age that crying got you no where, really it just cause a shit load of trouble, but when your in the shower it doesn't really count as crying.  
She doesn't even know why she's crying, it's dumb, there is absolutely no rational reasoning and Tony is a person of rational reasoning. She’s science and maths and engineering not crying in the shower because your chest is developing stupid, fucking useless lumps. She doesn't know why she feels like this, and she hates not knowing things, she's smarter than that.  
Maybe every girl her age feels this way. Maybe if she were with the other kids her age she wouldn't feel so weird and wrong. Tony pressed her palms against her budding breasts, flattening her chest to how it used to be. How it should be, dammit. Her hips were widening too, they were sneakily taking away her stick straight body ever so slowly, you wouldn't notice any change if you looked in the mirror each day, but if you gave it a week it was painstakingly obvious. God, everything just felt wrong and there was no rhyme or reason too it, she didn't know what to do; it was just going to get worse. She'd look like all the other girls in her grade and she didn't know how to deal with it.

She wakes up one morning feeling like someone's stabbing her. She’s famous and powerful, maybe she's been poisoned, that's the first thought her sleep deprived brain comes up with at least. Tony stifles a groan of pain, as she pulls away the sheets, there's blood on them and now she knows what's happening, but instead of the knowledge that she wasn't dying calming her it just panics her more. Tony was up in a flash, disappearing into her bathroom, there was usually two girls per room sharing a bathroom but hey, Tony was rich and the age gap between her and the other girls in her grade was too extreme.  
She stepped into the shower, and everything just felt wrong. Her body didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like hers, it felt more like someone had taken her and shoved her in a ill fitting puppet. Tony didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t really think things through but her nails were digging into her skin, leaving angry red marks across her stomach and thighs and chest, she wanted to rip herself apart, destroy the outer casing that trapped her.

Tony knows she’s going to get into MIT, she’s a genius, I mean, she’s doing her SATS at thirteen, so yeah, she’s not nearly as stressed as everyone. Everyone else however, well they’re completely off their heads with worry. Time in the labs with Lucy is starting to become dangerous; and even though Tony had spent her entire life with less than safe lab standards she was still mildly alarmed. Lucy didn’t cope well with stress and it was so easy to screw up the measurements when the difference of one drop could end up with an explosion.  
“Why are you so calm?” Lucy exclaimed as Tony steadily fiddled with some robot.   
“I want to go to MIT, so I’m going to go to MIT. Simple.”  
Lucy didn’t really know what to say to that, what do you say to that? Tony was confident of her abilities to the point of being obnoxious but it wasn’t as though she was wrong.   
“So what do you want for your birthday?” Lucy decided that the best course of action was to just change the topic entirely; no one wanted to talk about the impending need to decide what one was going to do with one’s future.  
“If I wanted something, I’d simply buy it.” Tony muttered, glaring at the robot that just refused to do what it was so clearly programed to do.  
Lucy turned away from her experiment to shoot a glare at Tony, “That’s not exactly how birthday’s work.”  
“It is in my household.” Tony muttered.  
“Huh?”  
“I wasn’t aware you even knew the date of my birthday.”  
“Antonia Stark: Most Thirteen Going on Fourteen Year Olds Still in Middle School Antonia Takes On SATS.” Lucy repeated the rather lengthy and un-catchy title of yesterday’s newspaper.  
Tony wrinkled her nose, “I didn’t realise an upcoming birthday was need for a news story.”  
“Don’t try to get off track. What do you want?”  
Tony paused, mulling over the answer, “The keys to the lab, or well a replica of them.”  
Lucy sighed, “Of all the things you could possibly want.”  
“You’re always studying-“  
“As you should be as well”  
“-And it’s impossible to get any work done here with a teacher watching over me,” Tony continued.

Tony stayed up to midnight, which was actually a pretty difficult feet considering the housemothers who liked to make sure you were in bed and sleeping by ten thirty. Tony watched the second hands tick on her clock, these would be the last few moments of being thirteen. For a second she remembered waking up early on her birthday because her mother and father and her always went on adventures on her birthday, it was the best part of the year, but now it was unlikely the Howard even remembered the changing of his daughters age.


	12. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for transphobia to trans feminine people, some of which is from Tony.

The clock clicked over to midnight. Fourteen. Tony rolled over and closed her eyes; it didn’t feel any different to thirteen.

She first stumbled across the concept accidently, hushed whispers talking about how a friend of a friend of a friend knew a boy who wanted to be a girl.  
A girl with a short bob leaned in excitedly. ‘Make up and dresses and everything?’  
‘Yeah, he even wants to have surgery so he can have boobs.’ The blonde ringleader told them.  
‘That’s insane!’ Bob girl exclaimed.  
The third girl smirked, ‘I don't know, I find the idea of a man in a dress pretty damn sexy.’  
It struck a cord with Tony for some reason, piqued her interest, could people actually just change their genders on a whim? So Tony did what Tony does best, she turns to technology for answers.

She waits until it’s late, until she’s sure the house mother has gone to bed before pulling her laptop out from under her bed.  
Boy becoming girl comes up with pictures of people with broad shoulders and square jaws wearing garish makeup and skimpy dresses, but a link and then another and another leads her to the sight where she first reads the word ‘transgender.’  
Born in the wrong body  
Dysphoria  
Wanting to be seen as the opposite gender  
Tony is vibrating with the new knowledge, half in panic and half in relief, there are other people, who feel like her, she’s not alone.  
Tony spent the night reading articles and personal stories, learning that there were ways to fix her body, the whole time her brain kept shouting, ‘Yes, that’s me! That’s what I want.’  
Tony didn’t notice the sun begin to rise, she was to wrapped up in her own research, she did, however, notice her alarm begin to blare. The piercing sound brought her back to reality and it wasn’t a fun place to be. Tony quickly closed the multiple tabs she had opened on her computer, making sure to clear the history and then again, just to be safe. She turned the entire thing off, shoving the computer back under her bed, as though that would make everything go back to normal.  
With the first rays of sun seeping there way into Tony’s room everything she’d read seemed like a far fetched dream, she was a girl and there was nothing she could do about it.


	13. Fifteen

Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton balls, her head felt like someone had set it on fire, everything hurt. She opened her eyes for a brief second, shutting them quickly as the fluorescent lights penetrated her very being. The lights and the overly strong smell of disinfectant made everything hurt even more. Hospital. Her mind slowly began to remember how she had gotten herself into this situation.  
What sort of dumb fucking idea was that? Her mind snapped at her. Technically she wasn’t allowed to drive but it wasn’t like she didn’t have access to a car, Howard’s garage was filled with expensive cars.  
Obadiah walked in at that moment, holding a cup of coffee, Howard was following behind him, looking incredibly pissed off.  
“You’re awake then.” Obie observed as Tony watched them, not saying a word.  
“Nice stunt you pulled there.” Howard snarled at her.  
The night was a drunken haze of self hatred, if she had been sober she may not of done what she did, or she may of just done it properly.  
“Did you even fucking think about it? What the press would say?”  
She got in the car, and backed it out of the driveway, taking out the mailbox on the way. It was a thrill, slamming her foot on the floor, the car’s engine revving, for those few seconds she felt like an unstoppable force.  
No Dad, I was too focused on wishing I was dead.  
The car was closing in on the huge oak tree at what felt to be the speed of light.  
Obie waved his hand dismissively at Howard’s input, “It’s fine, people heard the crash but we’ve covered that up as a theft, someone taking the car for a joy ride and screwing up, your under eighteen so all records have been sealed, no one is going to know.”  
Howard just shook his head, “I’ve got stuff to do.” He mumbled exiting the room.  
Obie watched her, “Tony, what you did was not okay, I know your Daddy’s pretty big on the alcohol but that doesn’t mean you can be. As for this, it seems fairly clear that this wasn’t an accident, we can get you someone to talk to.”  
Tony closed her eyes, “I’m fine.” She mumbled, hoping that he’d just leave.  
There was a few moments of silence before Obie replied, “Alright then,” Obadiah turned to leave the room before remembering something else, “And remember, you can’t tell anyone about this.”  
Tony nodded, she knew.

Tony tried to ignore everything but it was just so hard. And she was living alone now, dorm rooms weren’t exactly her thing, and the manor was too far away from MIT, so why did she have to ignore it?  
Still, Tony’s hands were shaking when she typed in the word, ‘transgender,’ into the search bar on her laptop, it was so much worse than that first time because now she knew, now there were expectations. Doing this wasn’t no strings attached any more it meant doing something about how she felt, and it was that thought that terrified her.  
By the end of the night there was no turning back, he’d (the pronoun felt weird – good, wonderful, glorious, but still weird) ordered a binder online. But shit even after waiting a lifetime he didn't think he could wait the couple of days it would take to get here.   
Tony dug through his apartment, he knew there was a first aid kit in here somewhere, it took a while but he was finally able to find the, now slightly dusty, red box. He took off his shirt and bra, holding the base of the bandage against his left side he began to wrap it around his chest. He pulled his shirt back on, a unisex Iron Maiden shirt, dressing in a masculine fashion wasn’t going to raise any red flags.  
Tony ran a hand over his chest, it had been years since he’d had a flat chest, a smile crept on to his face.  
Tony spent that day in his apartment, programing on his tablet, he didn’t have class until tomorrow. It felt good being dressed like this, in shorts that were made for guys and a top too. Every now and again he ran his hand over his chest, feeling giddy, god he wanted this so badly.  
Tony fell asleep still fully dressed with the bandages wrapped around his chest, his upper torso felt like it was on fire. Jeez, they weren’t kidding when they said these things were unsafe. Tony glanced at the alarm clock that sat on his desk, the bright red numbers told him he had exactly seven minutes to be in class. “Shit.” He cursed.  
Tony stumbled towards the bathroom, stripping on the way, he fumbled with the clip on the bandages before pulling them off, his aching back instantly felt relieved. Tony splashed himself with water and glanced at his now mostly naked self. There were dark rings under his eyes but he figured those were actually a permanent thing by now, he didn’t look like he had gotten drunk of his ass and he defiantly smelt a lot better, he’d been to classes looking a shit tonne worse.  
Tony rummaged around the clothes on the floor, trying to find something that didn’t reek, he could have easily afforded a cleaner but he felt like that wouldn’t be getting the full college experience, besides every cleaner, cook or butler was just a spy reporting to Howard.  
Equipped with a sports bra, an oversized t-shirt and jeans that were, Tony made it into class only six minutes late, he had downed an espresso with a ridiculous amount of shots on the way and was now feeling much more like a human being.

Tony was rich and he’d decided that the gender he had lived in his whole life was actually incorrect so of course the most logical next step was a shopping spree.  
Shopping was actually a terrifying experience. Tony felt out of place in the male section, his binder wasn’t due to arrive for another two days and his ribs were still reprimanding him for using the ace bandages. He walked in hap hazard laps around the clothing store, acting as though he was only incidentally in the male section, he took whatever grabbed his eyes, as he hurried back to a the female section of the store. He also made sure that he bought enough female clothing that the male clothing would go unnoticed by the cashier.  
Truth be told no one seemed to care, Tony had spent a large amount of time working out how to avoid being seen in public and today he found himself to be successful, and really, who cared about what kind of clothes some random girl brought?  
Despite this Tony didn’t really breath until he finally got home, at that point he took a huge gulp of air, everything seeming slightly less terrifying. Tony set about splitting what he had bought into male and female, and then trying to figure out what actually fit and what he actually liked. Everything sort of fitted, they stretched around his breasts but when his binder arrived that wouldn’t matter; his hips however were another story. They made it near impossible to do up the last button on every shirt.  
Tony was close to screaming in frustration when a beautiful sky blue shirt pulled tight around his torso as he did up the last button.  
“Stupid fucking thing,” He swore, quickly unbuttoning the shirt and throwing it on the floor, if he got a size larger he would be swimming in the shirt, as it was it was everything was too wide around the shoulders. Tony still felt like shit though, why bother wearing these clothes? Why bother going through all this? Why bother dealing with what the media would say when they didn’t even fucking fit anyway. He’s body just felt overwhelmingly wrong.

“I want a haircut that will make me look like a man.” Tony blurted as his, new unaffiliated with Howard, hairdresser walked into his apartment.  
The hairdresser, whose name was something pretentious and French that Tony had not cared to memorise, hesitated for a second, “Of course…” She trailed off uncertainly raising an eyebrow at Tony.  
He flushed scarlet, not entirely sure what to say he pretended to ignore the question.  
Despite the interesting start the hairdresser did an amazing job. Tony ran his hands through his new hair, it was a little shorter than his usual length, slightly shorter on the sides and the back making his face look more square and masculine.

He’d worked up the nerve to see a tailor and now his shirts actually fit, his haircut looked good, and more often then not he could pass in public.  
“Miss Stark!” Of course he didn’t pass if people knew him. “Antonia, can I have your signature?”  
Tony really just wanted his coffee and to get to class close to on time, “I prefer Tony,” He grumped, but he had been raised to please the public so he followed it up with a photo smile, “And of course you can have a signature.” Tony left the café with a free espresso and a worse mood then ever. He might have worked through a lot of shit himself, he might use the right pronouns in his head and wear male clothing but unless he decided to come out he was never going to be seen as a boy.

Tony had no friends to talk to; no one to turn too so the first person that Tony told was Howard. In retrospect that was a terrible idea. but it wasn’t like there was anyone else to tell.   
He decided that calling Howard was probably the best way to avoid confrontation, but even with the knowledge that his father was miles away his hands were still trembling as he dialled Howard’s number. The phone rang once, twice, three times, maybe Howard wouldn’t even pick up; Tony couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief.  
“What is it Antonia? I’m busy.”  
Tony gulps, he could just hang up, but shit, he can’t deal with being called Antonia anymore. “I’m a boy.” He blurts out.  
This gets Howard’s attention, “What?” He’s not angry yet, just incredulous.  
“I mean I’m transgender, which make me a boy, like you know mentally, and I don’t want to be called Antonia anymore, it’s Tony, well I mean it’s been Tony for a while but it’s short for Anthony now, also pronouns, he, him, his. You know, because I’m a boy. But I’m still the same person, you know.” Tony just keeps rambling as though if he keeps talking he’ll say something that will make sense to his father.  
“That’s ridiculous.”  
Tony snapped his mouth shut, his heart pounding.  
“Don't you dare tell anyone else this bulshit.”  
There was a few seconds of silence before Howard screamed into the phone. “Do you hear me?”  
“Yes.” Tony whispered.  
The click of a phone being hung up rang in his ears.


	14. Sixteen

Tony wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, talking to his device trying to figure out exactly where the bugs were in his frightfully human like system, so unlike everyone else who had avoided the huge confused newbie Tony walked right into him, as Rhodey walked right into Tony. Tony being much smaller was the one who ended up on the ground.  
Rhodey was huge, like freaking hell, he was a freshman and Tony was going to graduate this year and he was about twice Tony’s size; granted all the freshmen were a year or two older than Tony and most were bigger.  
“Watch where you’re going,” Tony snapped as he leapt up.  
“I’m not going anywhere.” Tony’s phone replied, okay, so Tony needed to get the system to understand when it was being spoken to. The young genius began to type that into the device, still standing in the middle of the corridor, already having forgotten what had caused his fall.   
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you.”  
“Huh?” Tony looked up from her phone, oh yeah right, real life was happening, “Yeah, that’s fine, whatever.” Tony was about to make his get away when the freshman stopped him again.  
“Hey you wouldn’t be able to tell me where D62 is?”  
“What block?”  
The man tilted his head, “…Block D?”  
Tony internally sighed, “D is the corridor, 62 is the room, what’s the block?”  
“There’s sixty-two rooms on one corridor?” The man asked, confused.  
“For God’s sake, “ Tony swore, grabbing the schedule of the older man, fresh from high school obviously, the thing was even highlighted. “Block 11, this is Block 8.”   
Tony was going to tell him to leave this block and go left, it was quite likely that the kid was just going to get lost again but hey, it wasn’t Tony’s problem, but the guy looked like a confused puppy dog, big brown eyes looking at Tony hopefully. Of course that was dumb because said puppy dog was huge, and also older than Tony, Tony sometimes forgot that about the newbies, he was just so much smarter. “I can take you there.” Tony offered because logic be damned this guy was actually really attractive, and if it hadn’t been for the problems he had been having with his new system he would of noticed this a lot sooner.  
“Thanks!” The man’s expression brightened instantly, Tony unwilling to make him too happy began to walk off in the direction of Block 11. “It’s Rhodey by the way,” The military crew cut wasn’t perturbed by Tony’s rudeness.  
“Tony,” He wasn’t going to waste words on this Rhodey, because if he did than he might talk back and he could see herself thinking more of Rhodey than just a, ‘Wow he’s attractive,’ side thought.  
“Tony? As in Stark?”  
There it was the fateful recognition that leads to him wanting to be friends and then quickly ditching the disappointment that was Antonia Stark. “Yes.”  
“Wow, I just asked a senior for directions, I’m not supposed to do that am I?”  
Tony couldn’t help but laugh; that was his reaction to finding out he had just knocked over the famous Tony Stark?


	15. Seventeen

“Time to get up,” Rhodey whispered into Tony’s ear.

“Nguu,” Tony muttered, wrapping his arms around Rhodey and pulling him closer, burying his head into Rhodey’s warm chest.

“I do need to get to work, not all of us are rich.” He groaned, leaning away from Tony’s embrace.

“Fine, whatever,” Tony rolled away from Rhodey, “Just don’t expect me to get up too.”

Rhodey’s deep chuckle filled the room as he got up, scavenging around the floor for his clothes; he picked up Tony’s shirt and threw it at him.

“Screw off Rhodey”

“Come on, you’ll feel better if you come and get some coffee,”

The mention of coffee pricked Tony’s interest. “Can’t you just bring me some?” He whined.

“Nope,” Rhodey yanked on his pants, he’d have to go home to get his work uniform.

Tony threw the blankets off himself, staggering to his feet, “I hate you,” He told Rhodey, as he dug through his wardrobe for something to wear.

Rhodey watched Tony get dressed, he would be graduating in a matter of months and Rhodey wasn’t sure where their relationship would go from there. Tony was, well he was many things, but he wasn’t someone who Rhodey believed would do particularly well in a long distance relationship.

 

The night of graduation Tony choose to ditch his entire year group, opting to spend the time with Rhodey rather than out partying, an unlikely choice on his part but damn the sex was better than any party he could have been at.

Tony’s phone woke him up from his post-coital nap.

“Hello?” Tony asked, his eyes refused to look at the blaringly light screen long enough for him to read the caller ID.

“Tony, this is Obie.”

“Why are you calling at- What time is it?” Tony may be a genius, but he’s brain refused to function without sleep or coffee.

“Howard’s dead, Tony.”

Tony didn’t do anything or say anything, for fuck’s sake he didn’t feel anything, “Okay.” It was a stupid thing to say but Tony would be damned if he could think of anything else .

“It would be good if you could make your way to the hospital,” Obie told him.

“Okay,” Tony repeated dumbly.

“Who was it?” Rhodey asked as Tony placed the phone down.  
“Just a wrong number,” Tony assured Rhodey, kissing his forehead, “I have to go.”

“What? Why do you have to go? Who was it?” Rhodey was sitting up right in bed, always more willing to be awake than Tony.

“It’s just, something with my father,” Tony smiled weakly, “It’ll be fine I just need to go and see him.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, you just stay here, I’ll be back before you wake up.” Tony lied, smiling at Rhodey.

 

Tony doesn’t know what to do at the hospital, Obie meet him in the waiting room, thank god for that. “He was in a car crash, lived long enough to get here but died a couple of minutes after.”

Tony nodded.

“Would you like to say goodbye to him?” Obie asked. Tony blanched at the thought of seeing Howard’s lifeless body, his mind conjuring images of a terribly twisted corpse, mangled with metal. When Tony began to shake his head Obie leaned in to give him a hug, “The press will eat you alive if you don’t.” He whispered in Tony’s ear.

Tony nodded, and let himself be lead to the hospital room that Howard was inside of.

 

Tony hasn’t seen Rhodey for the last couple of days, he’d been living in his old room, ignoring his phone, letting his message bank fill up with Rhodey’s worried voice. He can’t talk to anyone now. He just wants to scream, because Howard’s gone and what is he supposed to do now? There was a company too look after and though Obie had promised to run it for him Tony would be in charge of making things and yeah he might be a genius but he wasn’t sure whether he would be able to work for deadlines and other people; and then of course there was that thing he had been trying really hard not to think about.

 

The night before the funeral Tony paced up and down her bedroom, she didn’t know what to do or what to say, tomorrow was going to be hell, regardless of what happened. Obidiah must have heard the pacing, or maybe he just guessed that Tony was going to be feeling like this.

“You doing okay Tony?” Obie asked as he slipped into the door, shutting it and then locking it behind him; Tony paused her pacing to watch him.

“I’m fine.” Tony stated, like she did every time he was asked a question of this sort.

“That’s not what you tell the media tomorrow.” Obidiah warned, “Have you written a speech?”

Tony shook his head, staring at the carpeted floor.

“Don't worry, I’ll handle it.” Obidiah told Tony, clasping his shoulder in what was meant to be a sign of comfort.

 

Tony had woken up early on the morning of his father’s funeral his exhausted body refusing to let him sleep. Tony didn’t know what to do, he was nervous and scared, he needed to pull today of successfully. He snorted, it was a funeral not a press conference, though he supposed it would be what his father had always wanted, Tony putting the company ahead of his feelings. Instead of figuring out a way to be perfect Tony picked up a bottle of his father’s scotch and began to drink. What could he say? He followed in his father’s footsteps.

“We’re leaving in an hour, here’s the dress you’re going to wear,” Obie greeted as he walked into Tony’s room, holding out a long black dress.

Tony took the offered goods, unsure of what he was meant to do with them.

“Tony, just how drunk are you?”

“Probably too drunk to attend this funeral.”

“Just put some perfume on and try not to do anything stupid.”

Tony wore the dress, he stood silently during the ceremony, trying to make sure his face wasn’t too blank.

Tony didn’t quite realise how drunk he was until he was walking up to make his speech, regardless he managed to follow the script, about how Howard was a great man, but an even better father. Tony wanted to throw up after that line left his mouth.

Tony didn’t want to listen to any other speeches after that, couldn’t deal with more people singing praises to Howard; so he left for the car, faking tears because he will forgiven for leaving early if it’s because he misses his departed father so much.

“I have to wait for Mr Stane to arrive, sir.” The driver informed as he held the door open for Tony.

“Fine,” and it was Tony had stashed a bottle of whisky in the car and it wasn’t like he could screw up going home.

When Obie did get into the car Tony has lost any illusion of sobriety.

“God, Tony,” Obadiah says by way of greeting as he steps into the car. “I’ll drop you off at your place, you can’t go to the wake like this.”

“I can’t do this,” Tony’s hands fumble as he tries to rip off the overly expensive dress, “I can’t do this anymore,” 

“Tony, what are you doing?” Obadiah snaps, trying to hold his hand still.

Tony struggles against him, close to hysterics.

“Tony it’s fine, it’s going to be okay, I know he was your father-“

“I don’t care about ‘im,” Tony gave up fighting against Obadiah, “He was a’ asshole,”

“What is it then?”

“’M not a girl,” Tony’s words come out garbled.

“Not a g- girl,” Tony is sobbing now.

“Okay, what are you then?” Obadiah desperately trying to calm Tony down as he’s breathing begins to escalate.

“B-oy,” Tony sobs out.

“We’re at Ms Stark’s apartment, sir.” The driver tells them.

“Wait here,” Obie opens his own door, and helps Tony out of his, half dragging, half carrying him to his apartment.

 

Tony wakes up alone in his apartment and he feels like fucking shit, he can only remember parts of yesterday, the funeral, leaving early and shit, fuck, damn, telling Obie. He manages to stumble out of bed to go and throw up, his insides heaving.

After a day of sleeping off one of the worst hangover’s he has ever had in his life Tony came to the decision that he couldn’t spend his life hiding in his apartment and avoiding the actions of his drunk self forever.

When Tony picks up his phone there’s three missed calls from Rhodey. Tony thinks about calling him but Rhodey’s going into the army, and he can’t deal with Rhodey hating him, at least this way there separation is Tony’s choice.

“Obie, about the other day, I wasn’t kidding.”

 

“How do you want us to spin this?” Tony asked Obie because he had waited long enough and he really wasn’t a fan of small steps.

“It’s going to be awful either way, book a holiday for six months, hold a press conference, get the hell out of here. Hopefully the shock will blow off by then.”

 

The press conference is booked for tomorrow morning; everyone just assumes it’s going to be about Howard’s death or running the company, which Obie had been doing a stella job of, profits continuing to rise, despite everything else that was going on.

Tony is nervous as hell but this he can’t fuck up, so no more drinking. He doesn’t know what else to do though because he is freaking the fuck out. He doesn’t know why she pops into his mind but she does, it’s not hard to find her, she’s still in the phone books as, ‘Lucinda Brooke.’

“Hello?” Lucy answers the phone, unsure of who would be calling her at ten o’clock.

“So you may have been the closest thing I ever had to what you could call a friend for my entire child and now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure you may have known, which really annoys me because I’m not a big fan of people knowing things before me, especially when they are about me. I mean really that’s just-“

It takes a while before Lucy realises that this is not just some drunken random who happened to get her number, “Tony!” Lucy exclaimed, “Gosh I haven’t heard from you since high school.”

Tony was disgruntled for a second, recognising that he should have probably opened with a more coherent greeting.

“So go on, what did I know about y- Oh wait is this about you being trans? I mean if you are, I don’t want to make assumptions it’s just that, I mean sorry.”

“Well yeah, okay, why didn’t care to share that when you figured it out?”

“Well you know self discovery and all.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile, he hadn’t actually realised how much he had missed Lucy; she hadn’t even crossed his mind in ages.

They talk for what seems like forever, Lucy’s half way through her degree, she’s excelling in science, as everyone expected, she feels like an old comfort to Tony; which is weird considering how much he hated that boarding school. Tony tells Lucy that he’s coming out tomorrow and she wishes him luck, as he does with her exam and for a moment, Tony feels like everything is going to be okay.

 

The suit is custom made for him, thanks to Obie because that man may not be the most friendly but he does look out for Tony and he gets things done, already he’s more of a father to Tony than Howard ever was. Okay so that’s a lie because once, very long ago Howard was a good father but Tony tries to forget about that because it only hurts, it makes him mourn the man who is currently six foot under and that hurts a lot and Tony has never been a fan of pain.

Tony has a speech to follow but has his eyes skim across the palm cards he realises that it’s all wrong, they don’t explain anything, ‘I have chosen to be male instead of female,’ he didn’t choose and the words are stiff and boring, he followed the cards for Howard’s funeral but he can’t for this, this is too important. Unfortunately Tony doesn’t know what else to say so he stands on that podium, cameras and microphones aimed at him, everything deadly silent as the media waits for him to tell them something they can tear him apart with.

Tony isn’t going to be dragged down by them kicking and screaming, he’s going to go into this mess willingly, he flashes them his presenter smile, and the photos begin to click again, “So everyone, I’ve called this meeting together to tell you just a couple of things. Tony is no longer short for Antonia but rather Anthony, I use male pronouns,” by this point the media has gone insane, the quiet of only a few seconds ago seems like a distant memory, “Oh and by the way, I’m transgender.” And with that Tony exits, bodyguards on either side of him attempt to hold off the swarms of people shouting questions at him.

 

Tony was on his plane, not Howard’s anymore, in less than half an hour. No one, apart from Obie knew where he was going, the news must have already hit the papers because Tony’s phone began to ring, informing him that Rhodey was trying to contact him; for a second Tony’s thumb hovers over the green ‘accept’ button but he thinks of Rhodey calling him a freak, a faggot, a dyke and he can’t answer the stupid phone.


	16. Eighteen

The six months away is a blur of booze and high class parties on various tropical islands, as he races against the paparazzi who very quickly become aware of his whereabouts, after all Tony wasn’t exactly used to living a low profile life.

He flies back into America on his eighteenth birthday, there’s something poetic about that, entering his adult life with an, admittedly patchy, beard, a deep voice and a collection of Armani suits after a six month holiday to wipe out a childhood of flowery dresses and curves.

When he gets home Obie is there, waiting for him in the mansion, “Good to see you.” He stands up wrapping Tony in an awkward hug.

“You too.” Tony tells him. “I should probably head down to the lab, you know actually start working.” Tony was desperate to get back to his tech, he’d been able to do some basic programming on his tablet while he was away but that was no substitute for a fully equipped workshop.

 

Tony spends his days, and frequently his nights, in his workshop, his share prices have recovered from the shocks of Howard’s death and Tony’s transition, as he churned out weapon after weapon. He’s perfecting the accuracy of a long range missile when he’s informed that, “A Mr Rhodes is here to see you sir.”

Ignoring phone calls is one thing but refusing entry to a Rhodey when he was on the doorstep was another.

Tony wiped his greasy hands on his jeans, leaving black marks over his thighs, when Rhodey hadn’t attempted to contact him in the first week of his arrival in the states Tony had started to believe that that chapter of his life would just fade away without him having to deal with it, but now here was Rhodey, forcing Tony to face whatever it was that the man had to say to him.

“I’ll be up in a second.” Tony informed the butler.

Rhodey waited in the hallway, vaguely surprised that Tony had agreed to the visit. Rhodey missed Tony. What they had between them was over now but that didn’t mean they weren’t more than one failed relationship. Tony and Rhodey had always clicked, and jesus, with all the shit that was currently being said about Tony, Rhodey was worried about him.

Tony looked nervous as he entered the hallway, Rhodey took in the appearance of his ex, the flat chest, and patchy beard, the thicker hair on his arms, the dark circles under his eyes concerned Rhodey, Tony wasn’t very good at sticking to a sleep schedule that resembled anything close to healthy.

“You were gone for a long time.” Rhodey broke the awkward silence that had settled between them, Tony shrinking away from Rhodey’s gaze.

“I was kind of hoping the media would die down.”

“Figured.”

The silence returned and Tony wanted so much to step forward and curl up against Rhodey he also wanted to bolt, run as far as he could, but he repressed both feelings waiting for Rhodey to say something else.

“You couldn’t of picked up the phone? You just left in the middle of the night saying you would be back, and then I find out your father has died and you don’t answer any of my calls, and then this,” Rhode waves his hand in Tony’s general direction, “Happens and you disappear for six fucking months, would it of killed you to answer your fucking phone?”

“I thought you’d hate me if I told you.” The excuse was weak and Tony knew it.

“And ignoring me for half a year wouldn’t?” Rhodey paused pressing his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, taking a calming breath, “You could of told me.”

“What would you of done if I did?”

“I don’t know I-“

“You’re going to join the army.”

“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have been your friend Tony!”

The accusations stop and there’s silence again.

“You’re my friend; first and foremost.” Rhodey told the engineer.

Tony steps forward and wraps his arms around Rhodey, it’s feminine reaction maybe, but jeez, he needs a friend.

 

The news eventually dies down, it takes a month of obsessing over Tony’s beard and how his deviancy will effect the children but after the media has said the same thing over and over again it gets to the point where people want to hear about something else.

Tony doesn’t know much about fixing up a friendship, well in all honesty he doesn’t really know much about friendship in general. Despite Tony’s lack of knowledge things seem to be going okay, Rhodey is Tony’s mate, always has been, first and foremost. Rhodey loves talking about projects with Tony, he may not always understand the engineering behind them but he does get how they need to be used, his suggestions lead to improvements in Tony’s work, the pair making quite the team.

 

Despite both Tony and Rhodey still being underage it isn’t hard to access alcohol, or bribe the underpaid bouncer to let you into the club.

“She’s cute,” Rhodey nodded his head towards a petite blonde, wearing too much lipstick, her super short dress clinging to her hips. “Dare you to ask her out.”

Tony hasn’t told Rhodey about the whole liking girls and well as boys things, so maybe Rhodey’s just drunk or maybe he needs to learn about the difference between gender and sexuality, whatever, Tony’s also drunk and blonde girl is really cute. Tony sets down his beer and waltzed up towards the girl. “Hey there.”

The blonde girl let out a high pitched giggle, “Hey yourself.”

 

Tony wakes up to his phone buzzing on the bedside table, he picks it up, the caller id informing him that it was Rhodey and no it wasn’t actually a ridiculously early time to be calling someone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you kinda ditched me last night wanted to make sure you made it home alright.”

“Better than alright.” Tony smirked, “I mean I would apologise for ditching you but you’re the one who dared me to talk to her in the first place.”

“I suppose, didn’t expect you to go through with it, didn’t even know you liked girls.”

“Oh.” Tony said once more, “Well yeah, I do.”

“Do you even like guys anymore?”

“Um, look I’ve got to go, she’s still here.” And with that Tony hung up, ending that line of interrogation.

 

The news on him spiked up again when Tony got a mastectomy, it was like very little step Tony made in his transition required a national out cry, he wished he’d been able to get it down when he’d first come out but as he’d been repeatedly told, top surgery yielded the best results once one had been on testosterone for at least nine months.

Tony was drugged out and in pain, he didn’t need to deal with people once again uttering about him being freakish and jesus christ it had been nearly a year and the papers were still calling him Antonia and using the wrong pronouns, every now and again they’d use the right ones but now that he’d cut off his tits they wanted to make him seem like a monster again.

There was a knock at Tony’s bedroom door, he wanted to tell them to go the fuck away, he’d spent the last couple of days not moving from his bed talking to JARVIS, currently just a rough design but soon he would be able to run the place, but he decided that would be impolite, besides they might be bringing him good news for once.

Rhodey stared at Tony for a good thirty seconds, taking in the bandages around his now flat chests and the tubes attached to it that were draining the liquid from his chest, before Tony interrupted, “Did you just come to stare at me?” Rhodey didn’t deserve really deserve Tony’s sass but the engineers was hurt and grumpy.

“In a bit of pain then?” Luckily for Tony, Rhodey didn’t take offence easily.

“A bit.” And then, because Tony hates himself, “How has the media been?”

“What do you expect?”

“Have any of them been calling me Anthony?” Tony groaned.

“Some gay magazines. They seem to think you’re doing wonders for the community, everyone else, not so much.”

“I should probably keep avoiding looking up my name on the Internet then?”

“Probably.”

Rhodey left soon after, Tony in his current state wasn’t exactly the greatest of company.

Tony had been trying to avoid the media knowing exactly what it would look like, but whether he did or didn’t know wasn’t going to make it any better or any worse, not to mention he was going crazy with nothing to do, so he decided to torture himself.

‘Sick,’ ‘freak’, ‘disgusting’, ‘self mutilation’ were the most common words. There was one article that he found under all the hate and slurs and wrong names which talked about how ‘Anthony was being so brave as he stuck true to who he was.’ Tony appreciated the name and pronouns, thought he wasn’t overly keen of the article, it was soppy and made it seem like he was big hero because he was like this, but hey it was better than telling him he had some sort of infectious disease that was going to ruin America and demoralize the children.

Tony quickly grew board of the articles, glad that his painkillers made him drowsy enough to sleep through most of the day before he could get back to working on his tech in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	17. Twenty-Two

Tony fidgeted in his chair, he had forgotten how much he utterly despised interviews, otherwise he would never of let Obie talk him into this. In a few minutes the lights would flick on and the cameras would start rolling, the brunette woman who sat in the opposite chair would then start the interrogation.

Tony had wanted to refuse the show’s offer for his appearance but their popularity with women who weren’t star struck teenage girls had always been low and was dropping significantly since the charming, yet always loyal Howard Stark had died and left his stupid son in his place, the gender change and the womanising really hadn’t gone down well with this particular demographic

Marisa Beckett was the perfect definition of a ‘feminazi.’ Tony wasn’t against feminism, in fact he was all for it but not Beckett’s particular brand of feminism.

“Five, four, three, two, one.” One of the camera men said, Beckett adopted a completely different style of body language, the lights went up and the cameras started rolling.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, today we are joined by a man known and celebrated for the deaths of millions, many of those innocent lives.”

Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been accused of that a million times before today.

“So now I’m asking you Tony,” The camera shot widened so you could see the both of them before returning its attention back to Beckett as she finished he question, “Do you ever turning your nose up at feminism?”

Tony knew that he was going to spend the next fifteen minutes having his gender attacked, Beckett didn’t care about the weapons, she cared that it wasn’t a woman making them. Tony wanted to scream, it had been years since he had come out, were they ever going to let it go. “I don’t know what you mean.” Tony deadpanned, “I am completely for the equal treatment of all genders.”

“Image what the papers would be saying, ‘Antonia Stark –Most Powerful Woman in the World,’ Tony flinched at the mention of his own name, how the fuck had Obie thought this was a good idea? “But instead it’s ‘Anthony Stark – Womanizer and Murderer.’”

Tony grimaced at her, “If I had chosen to pretend to be a female for the entirety of my life, and that’s all it would be pretending, I would still be a womanizer and I would still be making weapons; so basically what you’re saying is that doing all this stuff is completely fine so long as it’s a woman doing it? I don’t know about you Marisa but that sounds sexist to me.” Tony Stark his patent Stark grin at her.

Beckett looked flustered for a moment but she was back on track quickly, “You have to admit that abandoning your own gender was-“

Tony held up a hand, “I’m going to have to stop you there Marisa, but I never abandoned my own gender, my gender is male, I have always been male, other people just didn’t know that, to say otherwise is to degrade women to the point where they are considered nothing but vaginas, which is not something that I believe in doing.”

Beckett looked flabbergasted before she thanked Tony for coming on the show, informing her audience of her next guest; the engineer just grinned at her, this probably hadn’t gone the way Obie would have hoped that it would go but Tony was happy with the outcome regardless.


	18. Twenty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos :)

“Hey JARVIS?” Rhodey giggled, he’d had one, or ten, too many of Tony’s cocktails, one pro of your best friend being on the verge of being an alcoholic was that Tony was incredibly talented at mixing drinks.

“Yes sir?” JARVIS asked.

“Can you swear?” 

“I have been programmed not to use cuss words.” JARVIS replied, with what Tony couldn’t help but believe was some a level of irritation at his language being hindered.

Rhodey turned to where Tony was standing, much less drunk, in the door way, mouth agape, “He can’t swear?” Rhodey asked, shock evident in his voice. “I can’t believe you, of all people, would prevent him from swearing.”

Tony snorted, “You know we give primary school kids tours through here, right?”

“Bit fucked up really.” Rhodey mumbled as he took another swig of the brightly coloured liquid in his glass.  
Tony offered him a half smile, “Me preventing JARVIS’s freedom of speech? Or the fact that we live in a country that glorifies war to the point that an excursion to a lab where weapons is made is common place?”

Rhodey narrowed his eyes, “Both.”

Tony laughed, taking a swig of his drink, “God if I’d known it would only take a few cocktails before you dropped some of the patriotism I would have been more forceful when I offered you something to drink a long time ago.”

“You’re the one who makes the weapons Tony.” Rhodey snarked back.

Tony looked at his drink for a moment before nodding, lifting his gaze to make eye contact with Rhodey, “You’re right.” And that was a fact he was just going to have to live with, regardless of his personal opinions on America’s interventions in the East after all he had a business to not bankrupt.


	19. Thirty

“Happy birthday,” Obadiah opened his arms out, enveloping Tony in awkward embrace.  
“Thanks Obie.” Tony groaned, there was no ignoring the fact that he was Old with a capital O now.  
Obie, of course, knew exactly what Tony was thinking, “You’ve still got great things ahead of you.” Obadiah promised, giving him a hearty pat on the back.  
If by great things you mean giving the shareholders of Stark enterprises more money sure, Tony sulked internally.   
“Well now since you officially old,” Tony practically winced at the word, “It really is time you got an official assistant.”  
Tony groaned, not this again, personal assistants were the worst. That’s Tony’ professional opinion on them, they follow you around all day and you either feel guilty for treating them like shit, he’d never picked up Howard’s ‘they’re staff so they don’t actually have feelings’ attitude,’ or you had to make conversation with this person you have absolutely nothing in common with. “JARVIS handles my appointments, and I uh,” Tony swept his arm around the immaculate living room, “Gather you have someone come and clean up fairly regularly.”  
Obie fixed Tony with a very stern look that made Tony feel like a child, which is probably why he responded to the stare with, “It’s my birthday.”  
Obadiah rolled his eyes at Tony’s petulant words, “JARVIS isn’t doing too good a job at handling your appointments considering you’ve missed four press releases and two meetings in the last week.” Tony groaned, god he couldn’t be expected to make these weapons and to handle the press and to go all these meetings, wasn’t that why Obie was here in the first place? “Her name’s Pepper, she’s coming on Wednesday.” With that Obie began to walk away, no longer interested in arguing with Tony about this.  
“What makes you think she’ll be different to the others?” Tony called after him.  
Obie’s first attempt was an over qualified girl who wasn’t so much set up to be an assistant but an engineer, she followed him into the workshop, which in itself was bad enough – Tony considered telling JARVIS to lock her out -, and then she continued to ask Tony question after question about his latest projects. Tony fired her within a week.  
After that came a brunette, “I want you to know that I’m fine with your gender identity.” Was her opening statement, she didn’t even last more than a few hours.  
Tony resigned himself to another impossibly awkward encounter and an angry Obadiah to follow the inevitable firing.


	20. Thirty-Three

“Good afternoon,” The red head greeted a smile on her face nearly dazzling enough to beat Tony’s, though a smile was far from the billionaire’s face right now. “I’m Virginia Potts, but most people call me Pepper.”  
“Well I’m going to assume you know who I am,” Tony said without looking up from the pile of papers that he wasn’t really all that invested in, he just didn’t feel the need to exchange pleasantries with someone he would undoubtedly be firing at the end of the week.  
Pepper, however, was not going to be simply brushed aside, “You know it might help if you had these papers in some semblance of order,” She told him, beginning to shuffle them into date order.  
Tony watched with mild annoyance, how did she know he hadn’t had them in the order he wanted, okay sure he hadn’t and the pile had been a mess but still…

Pepper’s presence became part of Tony’s life quicker than he was strictly comfortable – one moment he was considering how many days he would have to wait until he could let her go without Obie yelling at him and the next he couldn’t imagine stumbling through the day without her telling him he had a meeting at four or that Justin Hammer had raised his bid on the property they were both interested in – purely because the other was but that was beside the point.  
It wasn’t until Obie remarked on it that Tony realised that Pepper had been around far longer than the billionaire had planned. “Should have known to get you a read head.” The older man joked.  
Tony rolled his eyes at the crass joke, uncomfortable with objectifying Pepper that way – but it wasn’t exactly as though the shorter man was exactly free of guilt when it came to objectifying women but still Pepper was different – not that saying that would get anything but more jibing from Obadiah.


	21. Thirty-Six

The vehicle is stiflingly silent. Tony jiggles his knee, he didn’t go with Rhodey because he wanted to have some fun rather than deal with Rhodey’s all work no play persona, hey if he was going to go blow shit up in the desert he might as well have fun doing it.   
Tony pokes at the three people he’s driving with trying to get the party started, the driver finally pipes up, “You intimidate them.” The drivers voice is softer and higher then Tony expected.  
“Good god you’re a woman. I honestly couldn’t have called that. I’d apologise but isn’t that what we’re going for here. I thought of you as a soldier first.” For a pause Tony feels guilty, it’s unfair to simply assume the driver’s gender based on voice, especially considering the otherwise masculine look, getting access to hormone treatment was hard enough for those not also having to deal with the military’s Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy. The moment was fleeting though, Tony hadn’t signed up to be some queer role model, regardless he didn’t exactly have time to dwell on this thought as the car was thrown into the air by the force of one of his own bombs.

~~~~~

Oh, god no, please no. Tony’s mind repeated like a mantra as though he thought that his prayers would reach the ears of some caring god as Obadiah literally rips out his heart.  
“Now your father helped give us the atomic bomb, now what kind of world would be in today if he was as selfish as you?” He asks as he leaves Tony paralysed on the floor, waiting for the shrapnel to kill him.  
Tony doesn’t want to fight it, not really, he’d by far exceed his quota for fighting for his life in the last few months, but this isn’t about him or his life, this is about stopping Obie from destroying the world.  
Fighting the paralysis is like swimming through maple syrup, except that the maple syrup is also on fire. There’s no way he can make is legs move, let alone take his weight so Tony desperately drags himself forward with his arms, reaching for the stupid keepsake Pepper had insisted on, he wanted to kiss her in that moment. As he grabs for it though, he can feel the shrapnel edging into his heart, he collapses just inches away from his goal, and isn’t that the greatest metaphor for Tony’s life?  
He closes his eyes, god he’s just so tired it would be so easy- what Tony assumed to be his final thoughts, however, are interrupted by they sound of whirring above him.  
He opens his eyes to see Butterfingers holding the disk out to him, of course the only thing that was always there for Tony were his own inventions, if only programming people could be that simple.

An instant relief rushes over Tony as he sees that Obadiah is in a suit… well a suit on steroids because it makes it easier to not see him as Obie, Tony then feels guilty, mad at himself that despite what Obadiah just did, despite everything Obie had done, that he wasn’t sure he could fight him if he didn’t have that mask on.  
“You finally out did yourself Tony, you would have made your father proud,” and it feels like a knife twisting in his gut, Obadiah walks towards him, the weight of the suit shaking the ground, “His little girl all grown up and throwing away the Stark company to chase fucking renewables.”  
Tony refuses to let himself mule on the words, he has a job to do.  
Even as JARVIS is telling him that his suit can’t handle the altitude, that he’s going to die when he eventually crashes back down to earth, he continues because fuck it he has a job to do, and god, if a tiny bit of him didn’t just want to rip apart Howard’s legacy and everything that he’d done to him, everything he’d done to the world. 

~~~~~

“Iron man, that’s kind of catchy. It’s got a nice ring to it. I mean, it’s not technically accurate. The suit’s a gold-titanium alloy. But it’s kind of evocative, the imagery anyway.” He rambles to Pepper as she tries her best to fix up his face, though not particularly successfully it looked as though the dark purple bruising may steal the lime light – Tony had refused to go near his makeup artist, worried about interacting with anyone employed by Obadiah. Tony knows that he’s blabbering but Obie is dead and they’re calling him Iron Man, and Pepper is so beautiful and so close to him which is awesome, despite the fact that she’s plucking his eyebrows which fucking hurts and Obie is dead and Tony was the one who killed him and if he falls off this wave of nervous energy he doesn’t know how far he’ll plummet.

~~~~~

Tony isn’t remotely new to interviews or pre-planned speeches, nor nose diving off those pre-planned remarks, but this is different, for the first time in his life he realises that he isn’t going to face the consequences for fucking up, isn’t going to have to deal with his father or Obadiah yelling at him and treating him like a child. That thought feels like a knife in his gut, god you’d think that after finding out that Obadiah was selling weapons to the enemy and tried to kill him twice, he wouldn’t feel so bad about him being dead, but - Christ how come he feels like he’s the traitor?  
Tony shakes his head, this isn’t the time to be thinking like this, the public isn’t even aware that Obadiah is dead yet.   
He was planning to stick to the cards, he really was, but before he can say anything the blonde has to question his, yet to be told, story, and he begins to ramble, calls her insane, then self-depreciation, it’s an old method of Tony’s, the public loves to see the humane side of the rich and powerful and he’d been enough of a fuck up to be the human side for Howard and Obadiah as well.  
Rhodey leans forward to cut off his blathering, “Just stick to the cards.”  
Tony nodded, “Yeah.” Because the truth is he wants to stick to the cards, Iron Man feels like his chance to go stealth, a chance he was never given because growing up famous was not something that allowed one to have many secrets.  
Tony redirects his attention to the card, “The truth is…” He begins, reading from the neat little palm cards, he can feel Rhodey take an audible breath, relieved that Tony is actually listening to him for once, but you know what, screw that, Tony had learnt his lesson about hiding things about himself and well, he’s a fucking super hero, “I am Iron Man.”  
The press goes wild and Tony can almost feel the frustration radiating off Rhodey, but hey the man’s been friends with him long enough he should have known what to expect.  
The press the next day hail him as a hero, it’s nice not to be known as the merchant of death. There is that one fucker who has to write ‘Iron Woman,’ but it’s just some dumb local paper that no one’s going to read anyway, who wants to dredge up the same news about Tony’s genitalia when they could be reporting on the fact that he saved lives? Or, as some less than enthusiastic newspapers preferred, the fact that he had built an illegal suit and broke flying regulation, endangering hundreds of lives but tomato to-ma-to. 

Tony does follow the assigned press release on one thing though. He doesn’t talk about what exactly happened that night, not in regards to Obadiah, doing so would feel like inviting a crowd of angry and uncaring media into the hole in his chest that makes it hard to breath properly. This, however, has the unfortunate consequence of Tony having to go to the first funeral he’d been to since Howard’s. Tony gave a short speech on what a wonderful man he was, he was expecting it to feel similar to the speech he gave at Howard’s funeral, but it’s not, because fuck Tony believed everything he said up until a few days ago. Tony does find himself grieving at the funeral, maybe not Obadiah’s death exactly but the loss of the Obadiah he thought he knew. It’s with a sad mixture of guilt, relief and loss that Tony watches them scoop dirt onto the coffin containing a man who had not actually died of a hard attack, he waits until he’s alone at the funeral, Pepper was the last to leave offering him a consolatory squeeze of the shoulder, telling him she’d be at Obie’s wake.  
Tony just stood there, looking at the fresh dirt, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now, he’d be kidding himself if he said that Obadiah has been the kindest man to him even before all this shit went down but he had been something.


End file.
